Need for Speed: New York
by LadyDivine91
Summary: Sequel to Need for Speed. Summary in the first chapter. Klaine. Kurt H. Blaine A.
1. Chapter 1

_**Summary: It's been years since high school graduation, and Kurt and Blaine are living the lives of their dreams in New York City alongside their best friends, Nick and Jeff. Car racing behind them, they're working towards the future - Kurt and Jeff at NYADA, Blaine and Nick at NYU. But soon after moving from their tiny apartments to a bigger loft, bits and pieces of Ohio start to weed their way in to their lives - along with some New York grown angst, causing rifts that hopping behind the wheel of a Mustang might not be able to solve.**_

"One grande nonfat mocha …"

"That's me!" Kurt called, reaching over the heads in front of him and grabbing his coffee.

"… and a tall black, one cream one sugar, with a blueberry muffin."

"That one's mine." Nick wrenched his arm through the crowd to snag his cup from the barista, along with the small brown paper bag that had his muffin nestled inside. "Ugh! I wish we could find a bigger place!" he complained. His remark received glares from a handful of people who had no investment in what he was saying, but felt offended by his tone of voice. He followed Kurt to an empty table in the corner by the window where they could watch the rain pound the pavement, cleaning away the grime from the glass.

"Unfortunately, most of the coffee shops on this side of town are about this size," Kurt commented, setting his cup down and grabbing an extra chair from a nearby table. "I know it's crowded, but I think we're out of luck."

"I'm not talking about the coffee shop, Kurt!" Nick groaned, putting down his suitcase and landing heavily in his seat. "I'm talking about our apartment! It's tiny! If we had a bigger place, then Jeff could dance at home. We need more space to move around."

"More room to move?" Kurt opened the lid to his coffee and took a deep breath in, sighing in contentment at the sweet scent of chocolate mixed with the strong jolt of Arabica he needed to fuel his day. "So what you're saying is you guys ran out of places to have sex, right?"

Nick threw Kurt a pointed look, glancing nervously around to see if anyone took notice.

"_No_. I mean we're spending all of our spare time at the dance studio at NYADA. It would be nice to live somewhere with enough floor space where Jeff could practice at home so we're not riding the subway back and forth at one in the morning."

"An apartment with that much space would cost a small fortune. Trust me. The idea has crossed my mind many, MANY times."

"Really?" Nick opened the crinkled top to his brown paper bag, shoved his nose inside, and took a sniff that caved the sides in.

"Yeah. Your place is tiny and you have a _corner_ unit. We don't. Ours is microscopic compared to yours." Kurt opened a browser on his phone and pulled up the classifieds. Space wasn't the only issue for Kurt. After last summer's temperatures hit triple digits and stayed there, Kurt had declared himself done with their apartment. But when several exhaustive searches turned up nothing they could afford, he'd come to the conclusion that finding a new place within their budgets close enough to school to make the commute worthwhile might be a pipe dream.

"I have to admit that it's nice though, hanging out at NYADA after hours. It's quiet, it's air conditioned in the summer, and George the janitor has been helping me with my homework."

Kurt snapped his head up. "Your _law_ homework?"

"Yeah. He majored in criminal law. At one time, he was one of the foremost attorneys in the _country_! Six figure salary! But he gave it up to be a janitor."

Kurt raised a skeptical eyebrow.

Nick shook his head. "I Googled him. He's legit."

"But why in the world would he do that? Give up a career and all that money to plunge toilets and mop floors?""

"Because he wasn't happy. He didn't want a career in law. His dad wanted him to. _He_ wanted to work in theater, but he said he wasn't any good. Had two left feet and couldn't carry a tune in a bucket – his words. Working at NYADA was the compromise. He says it's like going to the Met every day for free, so the decision was easy."

Kurt laughed and went back to the ads. "Only in New York."

"I guess." Nick stared out the window, focused on the people running back and forth trying to avoid the rain. There were a handful of commuters in dark coats and rain boots speed walking from bus stop to bus stop to subway terminal. But mixed among them were the tourists meandering slowly on their way to wherever, huge smiles on their faces as if getting caught in a New York rainstorm was exactly what they had hoped for. He spotted one couple coming off a bus hand-in-hand, beaming at one another, obviously in love.

_Probably honeymooners_, he thought, adverting his eyes when they stopped at the curb and started to kiss.

New York was for lovers. It was written everywhere. It was one of the reasons why he fell in love with the city the moment he got there. He and Jeff were so much in love, it hurt. This was definitely where they were meant to be.

Or so he thought …

"Hey. Hey, Nick." Kurt's concerned voice and the touch of his hand pulled Nick's eyes from the window. "What's going on with you? You've been in such a funk lately."

"I … I don't know." Nick looked down into his cooling cup of coffee, avoiding Kurt's eyes. His fears and doubts were stupid. He knew they were. But if he saw Kurt looking at him with worry, he'd unload everything. And there were things going on in his head he wasn't prepared to admit to right now.

Though, if reassurance was something he felt he needed (and it was) there was no better source for that than Kurt, if for no other reason than he and Jeff went to school together.

If there was something Nick didn't know, Kurt would.

"I just think maybe Jeff's getting a little tired of having me hang around all the time, you know? At school?"

Kurt's worried eyes widened with confusion.

"I mean," Nick tried to clarify, "that's kind of his world, and maybe I shouldn't interfere?"

Kurt's eyes became wider until they took up a good portion of his face, and Nick backpedaled.

"I don't know. Forget that. What I mean is, it would be nice to just ... stay in."

"Why in the world do you think Jeff's getting tired of you!?" Kurt barked, attracting the attention from diners at nearby tables that Nick was trying so hard to avoid. "From what we hear through the walls, you guys don't _ever_ get tired!"

Nick's cheeks turned the color of a brand spanking new fire truck, polish and all. "_Kurt_!"

"_And_," Kurt continued, "do you know how embarrassing it is to walk to school every day with Jeff and his incredible hard-on!? Seriously, Nick! It's like _every_ morning!"

"_Kurt_!"

"I'm not kidding! At this rate, you're going to have to buy that thing its own MetroCard!"

"Alright, alright! I get the picture! But, you know, if we're talking about _erections_, going to school with _your_ boyfriend isn't much better!" Nick argued, leaning across the table and whisper-scolding through clenched teeth, praying he could stop the current discussion before they gathered an actual crowd. "If you guys aren't going to stop with the early morning shower bjs, then you may want to consider asking Blaine to change the cut of his jeans … or start wearing slacks. _WITH_ underwear!"

_That_ worked.

"Touche." Kurt returned to the listings on his phone, scrolling past ads he'd read so many times, he had them memorized. There wasn't going to be anything new, he told himself. Not since last week. Blaine had offered to up his contribution on his portion of the housing costs so they could widen their search parameters, but Kurt refused. He didn't want Blaine carrying the financial weight, regardless of how large his trust fund was, or how much profit he made off selling his house. Besides, Kurt had to be realistic. Considering what the job market was like in the arts, it would be nice to have a hefty nest egg to rely on.

Kurt bit his lip at his own line of thinking - talking about their finances as if they were an old married couple.

As if that nest egg was _theirs_ and not just _Blaine's_.

Kurt tried not to think of it as theirs, but it got hard when Blaine constantly referred to it like that.

_Their_ savings.

_Their_ money.

Put aside for _their_ life. _Their_ future.

Kurt was a hopeless romantic. Had been all his life. He loved Blaine heart and soul, saw them spending the rest of their lives together. But he wasn't naïve. Unfortunately, things do happen. He didn't think they would happen to them. They were such a clear-headed and balanced couple. But they could. So Kurt started a nest egg of his own, and contributed to their savings as much as he could. He still flipped cars from time to time. He'd made quite a name for himself in Ohio, so when he went back to visit, he had a list of people willing to wait months for him to get their ride up on a lift and give it an overhaul. Plus, he had customers who were loyal to him, who drove up to New York just for an hour of his time. On a good weekend, he could come home from a trip to see his dad with a cool ten grand in his pocket.

Not too shabby for a side gig … a _legal_ one.

He'd almost convinced himself to open up a shop in New York, but even with the high demand, the price of rent and the time commitment didn't outweigh the potential profits.

Besides, he didn't want to be known as an auto tuner.

He wanted to be a Broadway star.

But he didn't hang up his coveralls completely. It was good to have something to fall back on. And with high performance race cars always in demand, he could have a steady source of income. Though, for the price of some of these shoebox apartments, it might be cheaper, and more lucrative, to open up a shop and live above it because _damn_! How the hell did college kids move to New York and survive without humongous trust funds?

He had no idea. Television definitely didn't prepare him for this.

He was about to exit out of the browser and pull up the _Variety_! website when he stumbled on an ad tucked at the bitter end that looked interesting. The picture had originally turned him off. He thought it was another bodega for rent. But after a third read, he felt the slow burn of excitement flutter like butterflies all over his entire body.

"Nick, when are you due back at the office?"

"In about …" Nick looked at his own phone clock and sighed the sigh of a man about to surrender himself to a long afternoon of dull research, even duller coffee runs, and chalking it up to _experience_ "… thirty minutes. Then I'm off at four. Why?"

Kurt shared the listing to Nick's phone, then clicked the hyperlink to dial the realtor's number.

"What are your feelings about Bushwick?"

"I don't think I have any." Nick opened the listing Kurt sent him and read through it. His eyes went wide, a smile spreading his lips despite the promise of a painstaking afternoon. "But I'm beginning to have some."

* * *

"Bushwick? What the hell's in Bushwick?" Blaine laughed, undoing the buttons on Kurt's jacket and snaking his hand inside. He needed this closeness, needed to feel his boyfriend after a long day without him.

He was also freezing his ass off and hoping he could leech some of Kurt's never-ending warmth so he could feel his fingers again.

Kurt shifted in his seat, moving closer and putting a hand over Blaine's to help keep him toasty. He wasn't a big fan of P.D.A. on the subway, but it was so crowded at this hour, no one was paying any attention.

"A big ass loft, that's what," Kurt said, thrusting his phone into Blaine's view. "Big enough for you, me, our friends, our stuff, your _ego_ …"

"Nonsense. Nothing's _that_ big." Blaine took the phone, the screen loaded to a slideshow of pictures showing every inch of the loft in question, plus a floor plan and a list of amenities. Kurt and Nick had taken the liberty of submitting a pre-qualification application, and with help from Nick's legal and financial expertise, they'd been provisionally approved. All they needed was to tour the place with their boyfriends and get the final okay from the realtor.

But as far as Kurt and Nick were concerned, they were in love.

"That definitely looks big enough for all our stuff. Hell, I could probably park my Mustang in there and we'd never bump into it! But why do we need to move to a new place?" Blaine had no objections to moving. He agreed they needed more space, and _yesterday_. But he enjoyed giving his excited boyfriend a hard time.

It was like foreplay to him.

"Well, aside from the things I've already mentioned - more space, less per month in rent, our own washer and dryer, living with our best friends in the world - I have two words for you: _air conditioning_."

"What? You don't like sleeping in the kitchen on hot summer nights with every window in the place open?"

"No."

"Not gonna miss that one little bit?"

"Not a bit."

"Too bad, because that is literally my favorite thing about living in the apartment we have now."

"And yet, I still manage to love you."

"Go figure. Have Nick and Jeff seen it yet?"

"They're supposed to meet us." Kurt scrolled through the text conversation he'd been having with Nick since Nick left his internship to pick up his boyfriend. "The last I heard from him is that he and Jeff had met up and they were heading out."

"Give or take five minutes in the coat closet for a little hanky panky," Blaine joked. "Or should I say an hour? If they find a place with a lock on the door, we might not seem them till midnight!"

Kurt wanted to rebut in defense of his friends, but Blaine was probably right. If there was a couple in this city that had more sex than Kurt and Blaine, it was Nick and Jeff.

Kurt knew because he heard most of it first-hand.

* * *

"I thought you guys said this was a loft?" Jeff wandered through the kitchen, opening cabinet doors and peeking inside, looking for what, no one knew. "When does a loft have _bedrooms_?"

"According to the website, it's a conversion," Kurt replied.

"Meaning?"

"Meaning they had to knock down the wall between a loft and a two bedroom apartment, and since it was too complicated to replace, they just left it. Something about the plumbing. They gutted the extra kitchen, renovated the bathroom and …"

"And created this enormous airplane hangar of an apartment," Blaine finished.

"A-ha. And it's two hundred dollars less a month than both our old apartments combined," Nick said.

"That's because we'll be living in Brooklyn instead of Manhattan," Jeff pointed out.

"But our rent is coming up in a week," Blaine mentioned, circling the place for a second time. At this rate, they won't need gym memberships. Then could just jog around their apartment. "I don't want us all paying double. If we say yes to this place, when would we be able to move in?"

"Like, now," Nick said. "We've been talking to the realtor all afternoon. She has the keys and she's bringing them down."

"I thought you guys said our approval was provisional," Jeff said.

"It took us close to five days to get the keys to our last place. Why are they so eager to rent this place?" Blaine asked.

"Technically, this is a historic building. The owners are filing to make it official, but in the meantime, there's a developer trying to buy it out and turn it into an IHOP or something. They need to have all the apartments filled by the end of the month to make their case that it's still viable as a living space while they wait on certification. They've apparently had tons of nibbles, but no follow throughs."

"And they're desperate. They're trying to fight off gentrification."

"And they're going to do that by renting the biggest space I've ever seen at a steal to four white gay guys?" Jeff asked.

"Hey, I don't make the rules," Kurt said, throwing open the drapes to let the afternoon sunlight in. "I'm just willing to benefit from them … uh … just this once, of course."

"Look at all the room you'll have to dance now, Jeff."

"Yeah," Jeff said, taking a few experimental steps, running the soles of his shoes against the floor one at a time to check the grip of the wood grain. "It's great, but is this really what you want, Nicky?"

"Yes. I mean, you'll be able to practice at home now. No more late night trips back and forth from NYADA."

"Oh, I don't know …" Jeff wrapped his arms around his boyfriend's waist and squeezed, lifting him an inch till their noses touched "... I was starting to enjoy those late night trips. All that alone time together, late nights on the train, catching dinner on the corner … it was kind of romantic."

"But if you practice at home and we don't have to spend time on the train, we'll have more time to do _other_ things late at night."

Jeff frowned, his brow pinched together as he tried to decipher the meaning behind his boyfriend's cryptic words.

"Other _romantic_ things?"

Jeff's brow pinched further, and Nick raised his eyebrows in an attempt to help him. They stood like that, staring at one another, deadlocked and waiting for Jeff to figure it out, until Kurt lost his patience.

"Sex! He means _sex_, Jeff! If you don't have to travel to NYADA every night, you get to have more sex! Though how that's possible, I have absolutely no damn idea!"

Across the room, Blaine laughed so hard, he stopped breathing.

"Oh!" Jeff smiled like the bear that stole the honey and got away without getting stung. "Okay. I'm sold."

"Great!" Kurt grabbed his phone out of his pocket and looked at the screen. "Oh, that's the realtor. She's on her way up. This is so exciting! I can't wait to start packing up our stuff and moving it in!"

"Hey, would you guys mind if Nicky and I stayed the night?" Jeff asked. "So we can celebrate early?"

"Celebrate?" Kurt shot Blaine a look, but it was no use, as the man had his head in his hands, laughing up a storm. "But there's no electricity! And you guys won't have a bed!"

"Kurt - that is the weirdest thing you have ever said to us."

"Whatever." Kurt pushed open the sliding door. "Just do us a favor and don't baptize our room before we get the chance."

Jeff clapped a hand over his boyfriend's ass, causing him to yelp. Jeff smirked. "We'll do our best."


	2. Chapter 2

_**Notes:**_

_**This was supposed to upload on Saturday, but I need a little positivity today, so I'm indulging. But there will be another chapter up Sat/Sun. Thank you all for your support 3**_

"A new bed, a new dresser, a new desk, a refrigerator … wait. I thought the loft _came_ with a refrigerator?" Blaine said.

"It does, but it's from the 50s," Kurt said, racing down the sidewalk to the NYADA main entrance with his phone pressed to his ear. "It's retro chic, but I worry about its energy efficiency."

"Do you wanna get rid of it or …?"

"No way! Are you kidding? It's too trendy to get rid of. We'll use it as a show piece or something. We just can't put food in it. Or plug it in."

"O-kay. You know, it's a good thing we're getting such a good deal on this loft seeing as we're rebuying every piece of furniture we own."

"Not _every_ piece."

"_Most_ of them."

"It's a good investment. As far as I'm concerned, the furniture we have is full to the brim with bad juju." Kurt hurried through the double doors as a throng of other students walked out - a group of theater majors so enthralled in a debate over whether Williams, Shaw, or O'Neill were the best playwright of their time, they didn't see Kurt until they ran into him. "The dresser's way too small, the couch cushions are flat as pancakes, and the legs of the bed are shot from moving it in and out of the kitchen all summer long."

"Are you sure _that's_ the reason our bed's legs are shot?"

"That's the one I'm going with while I'm out in public."

"And I'm guessing an exorcism is out of the question?"

"I'm not too sure the Catholic Church would be eager to help us. Besides, you honestly think that would be cheaper than a trip to IKEA?"

"Hmmm … probably not."

Kurt sighed, sliding his messenger bag, then his coat, off his shoulders and shaking out the rain. "I'm sorry. Is this too much? I think I kind of jumped into this without consulting you first."

"No, no! Not at all! I'm not complaining, I swear! I'm just bustin' your chops. I think it's adorable. And it'll probably be cheaper in the long run to buy brand new stuff than to cart our old junk to the new place."

"Exactly," Kurt concurred even though that particular argument hadn't crossed his mind.

"Plus, I fully support any opportunity you find to spread your designing wings. Speaking of, you're letting me foot the bill for this shopping spree, right?"

"Absolutely not! 50/50. That's the arrangement."

"If that's how you want it, darling. But you know …" Blaine's voice slid lower and Kurt grinned, knowing that something suggestive was about to come out of his boyfriend's mouth "… I could pay the bill, and you could work off your half in _trade_." He growled, and even though Kurt rolled his eyes, certain parts of his body rose to the occasion.

"You wish," Kurt said, willing away the erection that sprang up like a Pavlovian dog at Blaine's growl, which, at any other time, would be followed by his boyfriend on his hands and knees. _That_ was difficult to accomplish from across town. "Come on, let me go! I have to get to my first class. I'm already late enough to not show up!" _Damn Jeff and Nick for not coming home last night, _Kurt thought as he carefully folded his soaked coat inside out and draped it over his arm. Since their normal five a.m. shenanigans didn't wake Kurt up, and his alarm _never_ does, he was late getting ready, late for the train, and now, he's just plain late for the day.

Honestly, that was on him for linking his circadian rhythm to his friends' sex schedule.

But late for his first class meant his day was shot, so he might as well go home and keep packing, right?

Sounded reasonable to him.

"Alright, alright, alright! Get to class! Do all the things! I'll see you later this afternoon, and then maybe we could do a little house warming celebrating of our own." Blaine growled again, and Kurt re-positioned his sopping wet coat over the front of his jeans so as to not to make a scene.

"You order a pizza and I'll grab a sleeping bag from the apartment on my way over."

"It's a date. Bye, darling."

"Bye." Kurt hung up the call. He shivered when the doors behind him opened, ushering in a breeze that spiraled through his damp clothes and straight to his bones. He started down the hall, trying to remember whether or not he'd left a change of clothing in his locker in the costume closet. If not, he could always borrow something. What plays were going on right now? _Much Ado About Nothing_? _Waiting for Godot_? _Cat on a Hot Tin Roof_? There had to be a pair of jeans and a semi-fashionable button-down shirt in there that would fit him. Or he could throw caution to the wind and dress up in a brocade vest, a long coat, and pantaloons. With the risky outfits he wore during high school, period dress was something he hadn't tried. NYADA seemed like the perfect place to explore those vistas in fashion. Maybe he could start a trend. He _was_ interning at _Vogue_. He needed to do more to stretch boundaries, be bold, start a movement.

Get dry. Because the longer he waited, the tighter his jeans became. They were tight enough as it was. _Squishing his junk_ was not the fashion statement he needed to start today.

A familiar voice stopped him before he could convince himself to go to his second lecture dressed like Benedick … or Beatrice.

Not just stopped but skidded to a halt, nearly rolling his right ankle in the process.

"Hello, gorgeous. I think you forgot your bag."

"Sebastian?" Kurt spun around. And as implausible as it seemed, Sebastian Smythe was standing behind him, Kurt's messenger bag slung over his shoulder. He looked dryer than Kurt, so he couldn't have just gotten there. But why was he there at all? "Oh my God!" Kurt opened his arms and hugged him without giving it a second thought. "We haven't seen you in _forever_! I thought you were overseas! What are you doing in New York?"

Sebastian returned the hug single-armed. ""Haven't you heard? I go here now."

Kurt stepped out of Sebastian's embrace so quickly, he almost succeeded in twisting that ankle. "Wait? _What_? Are you _serious_?"

"Yeah." He brought his left arm forward, showing Kurt a stack of books he held clutched in his hand. The top one Kurt recognized right away as _Intro to Theater_. That happened to be the class he was missing this very moment. The second was _A History of Shakespearean Dress Making_, the elective Kurt had fourth today, and the third … _The Beginner's Guide to Mime_? Kurt didn't understand. Wasn't Sebastian attending Oxford or something? Why would he be in New York taking theater, mime, and dress making? It didn't make sense. "Wha-what, are you … did you really … how in the hell did you …?" Kurt went silent, mouth open as a dozen questions clogged up his throat like rush hour traffic.

He flashed back to his own audition for NYADA – the grueling hour spent in the April Rhodes Auditorium singing his prepared musical theater piece and sight reading another. He had to juggle set design, costume, and choreography all at a professional level to prove that he had what it took to go to this school. Jeff, who auditioned in dance, had to prepare two separate solos – one classical ballet and one hip-hop. At an additional placement interview, Kurt had to prepare another musical theater piece as well as deliver a monologue, and Jeff had to come up with three more dance routines – jazz, interpretive, and contemporary.

Kurt knew that Sebastian had music in his arsenal. He was co-captain of The Warblers at Dalton, but that was show choir. They sang top 40 hits and pulled off some synchronized swaying – nothing to the level of a NYADA audition. Kurt attended the last Warbler concert of their senior year with Blaine. Sebastian had a solo. Kurt remembered thinking he had a decent voice – _better_ than decent, actually.

But that was about it.

Afterwards, at a mixed crew going-away party, Sebastian drank three beers and smoked a joint – something Kurt would never think of doing as a performer. His body was his instrument. He wouldn't do anything that might put it out of tune.

Going to a school like NYADA wasn't only about talent. It was about passion and sacrifice. Sebastian never said a word about wanting to join the arts professionally. Was he keeping it a secret – maybe from his dad? Maybe his life was like George the janitor's and he was waiting for his moment to break free.

Could he have actually made it into NYADA?

"Wait, wait, wait! Hold up!" Sebastian juggled the books in his hand to grab his phone and snap a pic. The flash went off in Kurt's face, but he didn't even blink. Sebastian looked at the image on his screen and chortled. "Oh yeah! _That's_ a keeper!"

"I still don't … I don't … how did you …?"

"I don't go here, ya psycho!" Sebastian snorted, setting the books down on a nearby chair. "I came here to see _you_! The tuition here's highway robbery, and the audition requirements are insane! You really have to commit yourself to a life of suffering and poverty to want to go here, no offense."

"None taken, you useless walnut. Then where did you get those?" Kurt pointed at the books.

"I borrowed them from the library. I thought it would give me provenance, help me look the part."

"A-ha. So you came here looking for me, and when you couldn't find me, you went to the library and grabbed those books to pretend you go here on the off chance I'd walk through the door and you could pull this elaborate prank on me?"

Sebastian shrugged. "Worked, didn't it?"

Kurt chuckled. "Yup. I guess it did. You're one lucky bastard."

"_That_, and I ran into Jeff about half an hour ago. He said you'd probably be along soon."

"He should know. He's the reason I'm late, _the jerk_. You still haven't told me what you're doing in New York?"

"Yeah …" Sebastian glanced down at his feet, worrying the linoleum with the toe of his sneaker "… well, after a few laps around the world, I got bored and decided it was time to settle down for a while. So I thought I'd come back to the states, go to school and finish my degree."

"What degree?" Kurt asked, deciding he could afford to miss one _Intro to Theater_ class to catch up with an old friend. Besides, this information was bordering on gossip, and Kurt wasn't one to kick gossip out of bed.

"Originally, I was going to go into law. Become a states' attorney like my dad. But it seemed empty to me. So I gave it some thought and asked myself – when was the last time I really enjoyed myself? The last time I was really happy? Aside from driving, the answer to that was music. And since I didn't see myself becoming the next Dale Earnhardt, Jr. …"

"Mmm … probably not …" Kurt teased.

"… I applied to the music therapy program at NYU."

Kurt's nose scrunched. "The same program Blaine's in?"

"Yup." Sebastian's eyes sheepishly found his sneaker again. "I'll admit, I got the idea from his Facebook posts. It looks like something he really enjoys. Something that adds value to his life. That's something I need more of – value." He pinched his lower lip between his teeth. "That doesn't make you uncomfortable, does it? I mean, I know we all have a past and everything but …"

"But we've gotten over it," Kurt said. "I swear. Color me a little bit shocked, but that's all. How big of an asshole would I have to be if I said 'I know you finally found your purpose in life, but you need to give it up and leave'?"

"Pretty big," Sebastian agreed.

"That doesn't mean it's open season on my man or anything."

"Dammit!" Sebastian snapped his fingers in mock disappointment. "I'm heading his way now, and I was hoping for a little bathroom bj action."

Kurt crossed his arms over his chest. "Nice."

"I'm kidding! Kidding! Please, don't hate me … or murder me in my sleep."

"Hmph! I'll think about it."

Sebastian nodded, the last dregs of laughter fading in his throat. "All joking aside, I wanted to connect with you first. I wanted you to hear from me instead of Blaine that I was here." Sebastian looked Kurt up and down, but not in the way he used to. Not in a way that made Kurt's skin crawl. This was a different Sebastian Smythe. A _new_ Sebastian Smythe. Kurt hoped this one stuck around for a while. "You look good."

"Thanks," Kurt said, grateful that Sebastian overlooked the drowned rat aesthetic he was still sporting. "So do you."

"Do I?"

"Yes. You look happier. More ..." The first word that jumped to Kurt's mind was _mature_, but he thought that would make him sound conceited "… put together."

"It helps when you leave drama behind you and get your shit straightened out. Maybe now I can focus on the important things."

"If you need anything, let us know," Kurt said, offering Sebastian one last hug.

"I will." Sebastian wrapped his arms around Kurt's torso and gave him a squeeze. He slipped Kurt's bag over his shoulder, adjusting the curled strap for longer than necessary. "I have to go. Time to head over to NYU and bug your boyfriend."

"He'll be at lunch in about an hour. You can catch him at Kimmel Marketplace. Oh, and if you see Nick, do me a favor and punch him in the shoulder for me. I have to hunt down Jeff and do the same."

"Of course, but why?"

"Oh, they know what they've done."

* * *

"So, you're moving, huh?" Green eyes narrowed to judgmental slits, waiting for Blaine to answer.

"Uh … yeah," Blaine replied, fishing through his bag for his notebook. He was supposed to have three, but he could only find two. He smirked, wondering if Kurt had grabbed it by accident, seeing how distracted he was when he ran out to catch his train this morning.

Blaine felt slightly guilty for that one. Kurt blamed Jeff and Nick's absence for his lateness.

But Blaine had been doing the distracting.

"And whose idea was _that_?"

"My boyfriend wanted to move and I thought it was a good idea, so … yeah." Blaine grunted, pulling out each item one by one and stacking it neatly on the cafeteria table. "That's pretty much how that went down."

"I see." Paul brushed a lock of blond hair out of his face and sipped his coffee, perturbed by this recent development. The apartment Blaine lived in (though Paul had never been there) was only a few subway stops away from NYU. Everything Blaine could ever need was here on campus. _Everything_. So he didn't need to move. But apparently that wasn't Blaine's decision to make. His _boyfriend_ did. "Where to?"

"A loft out in Bushwick."

"Bushwick?" Paul's whole face crumpled in disgust. "Where the hell is Bushwick? It sounds like a slum."

"It's in Brooklyn. It's actually a pretty nice neighborhood."

"But what about all that travel? It's still Brooklyn."

"It's not that big a deal. Besides, it's worth it. You should see the place. It's _enormous_!"

Paul smiled, the piercings in his dimples mirroring the glint in his eyes. "Is that an invitation?"

"Sure. I guess. I mean, I should step up and host study night now that I have the space. I'm sure Kurt won't mind. I can probably connive him into making some snacks. He's an _amazing_ cook."

"I'll bet," Paul said dryly. "You know, the course load only gets harder from here on out, so I hear. You really should consider living closer to campus."

"I don't know if you've been looking at the classifieds lately, but places near campus cost an arm and a leg. I'd like to keep mine for now. I'm not even in grad school yet," Blaine said, chuckling at his own joke.

"Maybe you could find someone to bunk with during the week," Paul suggested, sliding closer while Blaine had his back turned, head deep inside his bag, "and go to your loft on the weekends. I know a couple of guys who do that." He snapped his fingers as if he just came up with a genius idea. "I have a fold-out couch. You can bunk with me whenever you're working late, or you're too tired to ride the subway … or you don't want to go home."

"I appreciate the offer, but I'd miss my boyfriend too much." Blaine yanked out a handful of letters from Kurt and piled them on top of his text books. Paul watched, his lip curling once he noticed the flowery handwriting. "I can handle the extra commute. I'm a big boy."

Paul grinned, looking Blaine over behind the safety of Blaine's back, stopping when his eyes reached his ass. "I'm sure you are."

"Anderson! Hey, Anderson!"

Blaine grinned to his eyebrows before he looked up. He'd recognize that voice, booming his name, anywhere. He'd heard rumors. He didn't know if they'd be true.

Apparently, they were.

Walking through the cafeteria crowd came Sebastian Smythe, sauntering toward him, reminiscent of the first day they met in the commons at Dalton.

God! That simultaneously seemed like yesterday and ten years ago. Where had the time gone?

"Are you kidding me? Where in the hell did you come from?" Blaine leapt out of his seat and into Sebastian's arms. "Last I heard, you were in London? Madrid?"

"Paris," Sebastian said, lifting Blaine up a foot off the ground just because he could. "I just came from NYADA. Had a little fun scaring the shit out of your man. He said you might be here. Speaking of …" Sebastian's smile dropped like a lead balloon when he caught sight of the guy with the bottle blond mop and garish crayon red tips glaring daggers at him, as if he and Blaine had been enjoying an intimate lunch and Sebastian was intruding "… who the hell is this?"

"This is Paul Johnson," Blaine said. "He's my lab partner this semester."

Sebastian didn't offer him a hand. Paul didn't offer one either.

"Yes," Paul said, "but we've known one another since freshman year, so …" He left it open-ended, as if there were a whole history of him and Blaine understood within the invisible brackets bookmarking that unfinished statement. It was pretentious, and as a once pretentious person himself, it rubbed Sebastian the wrong way.

Blaine, however, didn't seem to notice.

"Paul Johnson?" Sebastian huffed. "That sounds like a stripper name. Not that there's anything wrong with that. Stripping is a noble profession."

Paul's jaw locked tight. Blaine clapped Sebastian on the shoulder.

"Play nice," he said. "So, what's up? Did you get your books and shit? Do you know what classes you're taking?"

"Haven't got my books yet, _dad_," Sebastian teased, "but I have my course list." He handed Blaine his phone with his schedule listed on the screen. "According to this, I've got to get myself one of those …" He gestured dismissively at Paul.

"Too bad you weren't here a few weeks ago. _We_ could have been partners."

From the corner of his eye, Sebastian saw Paul grimace.

"Wouldn't that have been a hoot? Then I could have kept you out of trouble. Now I've gotta stalk your ass." Another glare from Paul, but this time Sebastian matched it and held it, not blinking until Paul backed down … which he did, returning to the task of sulking inside his coffee cup. "Hey, do you happen to know where Nick is?"

"Uh, I think he's at his internship already. Brown, Smith, Simon, and Kent on 5th Avenue. Why do you ask?"

"I'm supposed to punch him. Per Kurt's request." Sebastian pounded his left palm with his right fist and side-eyed Paul. "I could punch you instead. Something tells me Kurt would approve."

"Ha … ha …" Blaine stepped between Sebastian and Paul and gave his old friend another hug. "It's good to see you again, man, but unfortunately, we've got to get back to work."

"Yes," Paul said, his smug smile replacing the perma-glare on his face, "_we've_ got to get back to work."

"And I've got to swing by admissions," Sebastian said, ignoring Paul, "but we'll get together soon, right?"

"Absolutely! Did Kurt tell you about the new loft?"

"Nah. We only had time for a small make-out sesh. We didn't get that far."

Blaine raised an unamused brow. "You're full of the jokes today, aren't you?"

"He's full of something," Paul grumbled.

"Just excited to be back. And tryin' to keep you on your toes. I'm harmless ... mostly." Sebastian bumped the table with his thigh. Paul's coffee cup tipped, sending him scrambling to catch it before it could fall off the edge.

"Right," Blaine said, mildly confused. "I'll shoot you the deets and you can come by for dinner. Otherwise, we'll see you around campus?"

Sebastian threw a look over his shoulder, and since Paul had been boring holes in his back the whole time, willing him to move the hell on, he was in prime position to catch it. "I'm looking forward to it."


	3. Chapter 3

"Kurt? Are you doing all right over there?" Nick asked, straining under the weight of their new sofa - the sofa Kurt picked out and was infinitely proud to have found on clearance. The guys had decided collectively to give Kurt carte blanche with regards to decorating the communal rooms of the loft because - they had to face it - interior decorating was more his forte than theirs. If he didn't become a Broadway star, he would definitely end up a designer.

Kurt's eye for detail was _exceptional_.

If Blaine had his way, he'd bathe the entire place in leather and chrome. He'd even suggested it to Kurt once while he was sitting in bed mulling over fabric swatches. Kurt scolded him, told him to excel beyond his stereotype.

Blaine accused Kurt of being a philistine.

And then they fucked.

Jeff, on the other hand, would forgo the stress of furniture altogether in favor of maintaining the empty space. He wasn't opposed to eating on the floor and often said that all he really needed to be comfortable was a bed and his boyfriend … and the bed was negotiable.

So with that and the chili pepper lights he bought for his and Nick's room, he considered himself set.

If given the chance to decorate, Nick would probably end up making their loft look like Dalton Academy. Not on purpose. That's what he was raised with, what home looked like - hard wood everything; tartan fabrics declaring fake provenance; fine China and collectible figurines locked behind glass; anything soft and comforting, like the couches and recliners, wrapped in plastic. Sanitized.

Protected from human touch.

Besides, between Blaine, Nick, and Jeff, not a one of them had the time nor the patience. So they pooled their money together, gave it to Kurt, and told him to have at it.

And he did.

Kurt ordered the sofa first because he said it would be the heart of the room - the thing that would bring all other design elements together. But placement was key. He'd already had Nick help him move it twice. He wanted it in the spot that got the most mid-afternoon sun, and seeing as it was delivered at eight in the morning, the movers put it in the wrong place.

Before the rest of the living room furniture arrived, this needed to be rectified.

"I'm alright," Kurt replied, nudging his end forward, signaling Nick to move his end a little more to the left.

"Then what in the world are you grinning at?" After a third consecutive peek over at his friend, Nick noticed Kurt beaming at him like a proud parent watching their kid star as a tooth in a middle school play.

"Oh, _nothing_," Kurt sang in that way that indicated it definitely was _something_. "It's just nice to see you guys come up for air after violating our new loft for the past three days."

Nick grunted, prepared to drop his end and call it quits if Kurt insisted on poking fun at him all day long. He'd made a comment when he woke up (_Look who finally decided to join the land of the living!_), before breakfast (_Now tell me, before I plate, do I have to bleach the table first?_), after breakfast (_Must be nice eating something other than tube steak for once …_), then just before his shower (_I considered putting a black light light bulb in there, but I haven't had the chance to steam clean and I'm afraid the place would light up like a Christmas tree!_). It was all in good fun, Nick knew. He'd done the same to Kurt about a hundred times when they'd spend the night over at their place. He just … wasn't in the mood.

He couldn't say that to Kurt, though. He'd be walking right into the remark that would follow and would have no one to blame but himself.

But in a blink, Kurt's smile dipped, and he became serious.

"Out of curiosity, in between all the screwing that was going on here, did you guys ever get the chance to talk about what's been bothering you?"

Kurt stopped walking and lowered his end, and Nick took that as his cue to put his side down. He sighed in exhaustion. Not from moving the sofa. The sofa wasn't that heavy. But this conversation might be. "Not exactly."

"Nick …"

"There never seemed to be a right time."

"Of course there's never going to be a right time if you use sex to stall! Jeff takes his cues from _you_, and you know he'll choose jumping on you like a trampoline over a heart-to-heart if that's what he thinks you want!"

"It's … it's not just that." Nick side-eyed the sofa, missing a few minutes ago when he was lugging it around and didn't have to talk about this. "It's that … I know what I'm feeling is stupid."

"It's not stupid, Nick."

"Yes, it is!" Nick flopped onto the closest cushion, resting his forehead on the heels of his hands. "The things that I'm feeling, they're more about how I see myself than about how Jeff sees me! I _know_ that! But I can't stop myself! Even before we started going out, I was always afraid I'd lose him to someone smarter … more talented … better looking ..." Nick's eyes darted Kurt's way after each superlative and Kurt felt them tug at his heart. There was a time after Kurt and Jeff became friends when Nick assumed Jeff liked Kurt. _Like_ liked Kurt. Kurt knew that, felt guilty about it, and for a while, he was sure they might never become friends because of it. But look at them now. "And I'm afraid that if I talk to him about it, he'll think I'm having doubts about _him_. A-about _us_. But it's not about him or us. It's about _me_. _My_ sucky internship and _my_ boring-ass classes and how absolutely uninspired and stuck I feel. I mean, that right there is the height of stupidity! Who the hell feels stuck in New York City? It's the city of dreams! New York is supposed to be the place where anything can happen! It's happening for you and for Blaine, and definitely for Jeff. So why isn't it happening for me?"

"I don't know, Nick," Kurt said, sitting on the sofa beside his friend. "And I wish I could be more help. But I do know that Jeff _loves _you. All he wants to do is make you happy. It's what he lives for! He talks about you like you're the smartest, kindest, hottest thing on two legs!"

"Really?" Nick chuckled. He knew that Jeff did already, but he still found it difficult to believe.

"Yeah. And it's super annoying!"

"Thanks."

"I also know that if he found out that you've been harboring fears and doubts that you're not talking to him about, he'd be hurt."

"I know, I know. I owe it to him. That doesn't make it any easier."

Kurt put a hand on Nick's knee and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I'm not trying to pressure you. Think it over, then talk to him when you're ready. And I know it's hard, but please, don't make him wait too long. You might think you're stealthy at keeping secrets, but I can't help feeling he knows something's up."

And there it was. The thing Nick had been trying to avoid. But Kurt saw it, which meant Jeff had to have. If Nick could get his self-absorbed head out of his ass, he could put this to rest once and for all. "I'll talk to him," he said, putting a hand over Kurt's and holding it. "Soon. I promise."

* * *

"Settle down, settle down! Ladies! Gentlemen! We have a lot of ground to cover today so … shut up!"

The dancers laughed as Madame Dufraine marched into the room, the square heels of her dance shoes clicking against the smooth floor.

"We need to discuss semester projects!" she continued, shrugging out of her coat and handing it to her TA. She didn't look before she let it go, knowing he'd be there to catch it before it hit the ground … or _else_. "Chester, Chad, Lonnie, Michael, and Jeff are our contestants today. Let's shake things up and start from the end." She peered into the wall-length mirror, tucked a stray brown curl underneath her plum turban. Then she turned to her class, tapped the floor with her cane, and announced, "Jeff? Darling? You're up."

"Okay." Jeff popped to his feet straight from his seat on the floor and took the teacher's place at the front of the class. He clapped his hands in front of him, pausing to get his thoughts in order. The smile glowing on his face was distracting. It earned him several giggles from the girls who knew who that smile belonged to. "My semester project is very special to me," he began, voice quivering with excitement. "It's a modern take on a classic pas de deux. I've been planning this for a while, and I was originally hoping to dance it with Kevin." Jeff paused to shoot a look at the man sitting on the only chair in the room, his left leg locked in a cast that ran from his foot up to mid-thigh. "But he took himself out of the running when he broke his leg."

"More like a Dodge Charger took me out of the running, my man."

"If that's the story you're going with," Jeff teased. The giggling returned. "Anyway, my semester project isn't only about dance and what it brings to us in this room. It's about how dance influences life, how it brings people together." Jeff's cheeks turned red as he approached the meat of the matter. "My project wasn't choreographed by me alone. It was choreographed by me and my best friend while we were in high school - my boyfriend Nick."

A chorus of _ooo's_ accompanied his revelation, and his cheeks got redder.

"Dance didn't necessarily bring us together, but it's always been a huge part of our lives. Even now, while he's studying to become a lawyer, he helps me practice." He bit his lower lip thinking about dancing with Nick, dressed in their pajama pants and t-shirts, taking a turn around their living room wrapped in each other's arms. "He doesn't need to study dance to be a dancer. No one does. He's a dancer because a love of dance lives inside of him. And to be honest … his love inspires me. I wanna use this project to show him how much."

The dancers in the classroom _awww'd_ in unison, then clapped in support of his plan … all except for one man hunkered down in the corner of the room, out of sight, rolling blue eyes.

* * *

Nick wrapped his coat tight around his body and bounced on the balls of his feet, waiting outside NYADA for his boyfriend to appear. Students dribbled through the doors dressed in stylish clothes, talking excitedly about art and music and theater. All of the beautiful people seemed to reside in NYADA's halls and his own wickedly talented boyfriend was among them.

One of the _elite_.

Nick was just Nick - law student. Nick, with mousy brown hair and wearing sensible shoes. Nick … soft and meek and utterly uninteresting.

His heart stuttered when he saw Jeff walk out the doors, blending seamlessly with the other ballet gods and goddesses, almost all of them with an eye for his man. And why not? If Jeff was stunning as a teenager, he had grown into an absolute dream. His body had become even more defined through hours of practice and working out and discipline. He had more strength in his forearms alone than Nick had in his whole body, or so Nick imagined. With his innate charm and natural grace, no one would ever guess that Jeff was anything other than a New York socialite instead of coming from a working class family in Ohio.

Nick came from a much better-to-do family in Ohio, but the difference was that, regardless of having more money than Jeff's family, Nick _looked_ like he came from Ohio.

He and Jeff no longer matched, and Nick didn't know how to fix that.

Jeff stopped outside with a pack of ballerinas, and one particularly friendly man sporting a black up-sweep and piercing blue eyes, whose fingers seemed to find a way to brush along Jeff's arm no matter where he moved; whose lips lingered around his ear a little too long. Nick didn't interrupt even though the urge to strut over and wedge his way between them overwhelmed him.

That's what Kurt would do. He'd part them like the Red Sea, declare his superiority, and have everyone bowing at his feet.

But Nick couldn't, no matter how much sass of his own Jeff claimed Nick had.

Maybe Jeff belonged with _them__._ And Nick … well, Nick should find somewhere else to call home.

* * *

"Can you believe how many times Erik fell during that jazz combination? I thought Ms. July was going to put him through a window!"

"Now _there's_ a man with two left feet! And he's a contemporary dance major! I can't imagine what his knees are going to look like tonight!"

"The same way they look every night, I imagine."

"Keisha! Don't say that! That's rude!"

"What? If you don't think that man doesn't spend every night on his knees, then you're delusional!"

"And so what if he does? Have you _seen_ his boyfriend? I don't think Erik's getting the short end of the stick by any means."

Jeff laughed politely when the other dancers did. _Man_ but the ballerinas at NYADA gossiped more than Kurt, and they didn't pull any punches. Most of the time it was amusing to listen to whether he agreed with it or not, but today he was eager to get home. He hadn't been this excited since he graduated high school. He felt like everything in his life was starting anew - new semester, new classes, new loft, and his project which, if he played his cards right, might lead to something else new.

Something he'd wanted for a long time.

He just needed to find the man that would make that happen.

_His _man.

He lifted his eyes and glanced around, searching the crowd impatiently for his boyfriend.

It took only a single sweep of his eyes to find him.

As if Nick had called out his name, Jeff spotted him standing awkwardly off to the side, looking oddly uncomfortable. Jeff smiled, breaking through the crowd of dancers mid-sentence to greet his adorably clueless man.

Nick, with the sharpest wit of any person Jeff had ever met.

Nick, always so oblivious to how amazing he was.

Nick, the man Jeff swore he would someday marry.

Jeff greeted Nick the way he always did, by grabbing him around the waist and lifting him in the air, spinning him and kissing him breathless. It didn't matter that they were on a busy street in the middle of the afternoon. It didn't matter that a whole gaggle of people stared at them. Either way, whenever Jeff laid eyes on Nick, the rest of the world melted away until the only person that mattered was in Jeff's arms.

"So, Mr. Handsome Law Student Extraordinaire," he said, taking Nick's hand and sticking it in his own jacket pocket, "how was your day?"

"Same old, same old," Nick replied, staring down at his shoes as he walked through the slush.

"That bad, huh?"

"Yeah. And it got me thinking …" Nick swallowed hard "… actually, I may have been thinking about this off and on for a while now …" He didn't enjoy broaching the subject of moving, especially when those plans didn't necessarily include Jeff. Not that he didn't want to spend the rest of his life with Jeff. He could see himself easily giving up law and spending the rest of his life traveling the country with Jeff, driving from one end of the continent to the other in Jeff's 300ZX, concerned with nothing more pressing than where they would eat and what sites they would see. But he couldn't ask Jeff to leave his life in New York. He loved Jeff, more than he loved himself. Asking Jeff to uproot his whole life just for him? That wasn't something he could do. "You know, I … I don't think I'm doing so well here."

Jeff looked at Nick, eyes wide with surprise. "What do you mean?" he asked, guiding Nick through a crowd heading toward the subway.

"I don't know … school kind of sucks, my internship is worse, and most of the time, I don't feel like I fit in."

"But I thought you were doing great in school." Jeff led the way down the steep steps to the subway, paying their fare as they walked through the turnstile. "And didn't Mr. Ryerson say you were one of his best interns?"

"Yeah, because I can walk five cups of coffee from the elevator to his office without spilling anything."

Jeff found a bench and sat on it, pulling Nick into his lap. Nick looked around, self-conscious of who might be watching, but no one seemed to notice them.

"If they don't appreciate you, fuck 'em. Their loss." Jeff took both of Nick's hands in his and kissed them, warming Nick's skin with his breath. "So if you don't want to stay in New York, where should we go, Nicky?"

Nick stared at his boyfriend in disbelief, so nonchalant in the face of a total life change. "Wh-what do you mean 'we'?"

"Well, if you're moving away, I'm going with you."

"But you have a life here," Nick argued. "You're top of your class. You're making a name for yourself."

"Nicky …" Jeff looked at Nick with hurt and confused eyes, his boyfriend clearly missing the obvious "… I chose a life here because _you're_ here. I can dance anywhere. There's only one Nick."

Nick's gaze drifted slowly to their linked hands. "But … what if we weren't meant to be together?" he said, remembering the dancers gathered around Jeff, the statuesque women, straight out of a Degas painting … and that one handsome man. "You and I, we've become so different really. I think that maybe, sometimes, we're a little _too_ different."

Nick was afraid Jeff would get mad. Jeff didn't usually get mad about anything. He had the heart of a pacifist. Still, Nick half-expected it. But Jeff looked at him calmly, ready to impart his sage Jeff wisdom that somehow managed to keep Nick sane during times of incredible self-doubt.

"Nicky, we've known each other since elementary school, and you've always been my best friend."

"I know," Nick said, giving in and resting his head against Jeff's shoulder.

Jeff held Nick tighter against him. "Have you ever wondered why?"

"Wondered why what?"

"We barely ever fight, we always see eye to eye, we like the same stuff, we're really hot in bed together …"

Nick blushed red to the roots of his hair but he couldn't disagree. "I … guess I never really gave it any thought."

"Because you belong with me, Nicky," Jeff said, rocking his boyfriend in his arms. "You always have. And I belong with you. There isn't anyone on heaven or earth who can do anything about that. So, if you're leaving New York, I'm going with you. Got it? Unless …"

"Unless …?"

"Unless you … you _don't_ love me …" Jeff's voice went hoarse, the words a struggle to say, his heart lodging itself in his throat to keep him from finishing "… and you don't know how to tell me?"

Nick jerked up so quickly, he nearly knocked Jeff on the chin with his forehead. "No! Oh, Jeff! God, no! I've loved you since forever! Since _before_ forever! And I always will! That's not what this is about! I swear! Please don't think for one minute …"

"Okay …" Jeff put gentle fingers to his boyfriend's lips to stop his anxiety-fueled explaining. "That's all I needed to know."

Nick nodded, smiling as Jeff leaned in for a kiss, chaste and sweet. But when Jeff's tongue slipped between Nick's lips and the hard metal ball of his piercing danced against Nick's tongue, he moaned.

That sound of bliss might have turned a head or two, but Nick didn't notice.

"So," Jeff said, "why don't we head back to the loft and see how many times we can get our new neighbors to call the cops?"

Nick grinned. "Sounds like a plan."

* * *

"So, no lab partner yet?" Blaine slid onto the bench at the lunch table Sebastian occupied alone, every book he needed for the semester spread out in front of him as he worked at playing catch up.

"Nah. Seems like the class is all evens and I'm the odd man out."

"What are you going to do? That lab is half the grade."

"It's no biggie. Professor is going to let me be my own lab partner for now. Sort of academic masturbation." Sebastian moved his plate closer to Blaine when he noticed him coveting his sweet potato fries. "Here. Have at it, tiger. I don't need you drooling all over my homework. I don't think I get extra credit for that."

"Thanks." Blaine wasted no time snagging a fry and dipping it in ketchup. "Well, that's good. About the lab partner thing. It'd be awful to have your grade cut in half in the first few days after you lucked out with late admission and all. It'd be like they set you up to fail."

"Yup. And I would have paid thousands for the privilege."

"Brutal. So, are we on for Friday night?"

"Yup." Sebastian snickered. "You and Kurt both texted me about the party at the same time. Now I know how he must have felt in high school – caught between two devastatingly handsome men."

Blaine frowned at Sebastian's attempt at humor. "Funny. That might not be the way _he_ remembers it."

Sebastian nodded to himself - a private note to start curbing his tongue … if he can remember. "I'm sure he doesn't. I don't either."

Blaine picked up another fry, tapping it absentmindedly in the pool of ketchup on the plate. "And just so you know … I invited the study group."

Sebastian arced an eyebrow his way. "And you're telling me this why?"

"Because I may have noticed that you and Paul don't exactly get along."

"Was it that obvious? Because I was really trying to be subtle."

"You may have missed the mark on that one by an inch or two."

"Pity." Sebastian grabbed a fry, deciding to join Blaine in the feeding frenzy to give his hands something to do. "Hey, just a question but have you ever told Kurt about Captain Pincushion?"

Blaine shrugged. "I must have." He stopped munching a moment to give it some genuine thought. "Huh …"

"What do you mean _huh_?" Sebastian asked, squirreling another fry away before Blaine could lick the plate clean.

"To be honest, I don't think he ever came up."

"That's convenient."

"It's not like that, man. We're the _leave work and school at the door _types. That way we don't spend the whole night rehashing the stress of the day. We just focus on each other."

"I guess that makes sense," Sebastian said, fidgeting his pen as the remainder of the fries made a hasty retreat into Blaine's mouth. "But you guys do talk eventually, don't you?"

"Of course we do," Blaine said, looking only mildly offended. "We don't keep secrets. Never have."

"Well, I really think you should."

Blaine's head snapped up so quickly, Sebastian heard something crack. "You really think I should keep secrets from Kurt?"

"Tell Kurt about your lab partner!" Sebastian groaned.

"Okay, but I don't know what you think there is to tell."

"For one thing, that man has some serious eyes for you. He's going to make a play for you, if he hasn't already."

"Paul?" Blaine snorted, the thought ludicrous. "What makes you think that?"

"Because …" Sebastian paused, managing to swipe the last stunted, overcooked fry, narrowly missing having his fingers bitten off "… it takes an asshole to know an asshole."


End file.
